“Nothing is owed to you, Viserys,” the young Targaryen said angrily. “All these years it’s been you, you, you. What about me? Do I get nothing? You said yourself that you’d let all the Dothraki fuck me. You are no ruler, Viserys. You sound like father. You might even be mad like him.”
“Everything is owed to me. The Throne that the fat usurper sits on is mine by birth right and by the death of our father and brother!” He growled getting just as angry as his younger sister was. “I had to care for a babe when I myself was a child. It was you, you, you for quite some time” Viserys seethed now getting closer to Daenerys. “The Dotharki are our last chance.” He didn’t want to admit it but it had seemed like there was going to be no way out until the provider had mentioned the Dotharki to him.
“If they’re not pleased…we lose. I lose any hope of sitting on the throne, on going home as do you. You lose any chance to now home.” Viserys went on, tilting his head a bit as he spoke. “I am not like him” Now Viserys was pissed and he nearly struck Daenerys. “What he put myself and Rhaegar through…what he put mother through…You’re lucky you never knew him. That’s what you get, Daenerys. You get the fortune of not–” He stopped, unsure where this emotion was coming from. He would not cry or look weak in front of his sister. Not now. Not when they were arguing and so he tried to mask his face, to turn into stony and stern.
Goldnwulf 